


Words in the Dark Night

by ikkiM



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mikki Writes Canon, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:36:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4959121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/pseuds/ikkiM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne go on patrol at the Wall. Sam's observations as he tags along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words in the Dark Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sophie_Of_Tarth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie_Of_Tarth/gifts).



> This is from a prompt from Sophie where she wanted Jaime and Brienne in the cold and him suggesting dirty ways to keep warm. It didn't exactly turn out smutty.

Sam liked patrolling with the Kingslayer and the Maid of Tarth. Other Watchmen avoided it like the bloody flux. Jaime Lannister could flay you with words before patrol was half done if he’d taken a dislike to you. And Jaime Lannister had taken a dislike to many at the Wall. Some thought him simply disagreeable, a combination of arrogance and cruelty. Sam knew better. Jaime’s targets were easy to foresee for those who really paid attention: anyone who ever dared insult, mock, ignore or disrespect Lady Brienne of Tarth.

Sam had taken to Brienne the first time he met her. She’d asked him about killing a White Walker, and there was no disbelief in her wide blue eyes, just curiosity. In another lifetime, had his father insisted he stay at Horn Hill and marry, he might have asked the Maid of Tarth for her hand. Underneath her gruff exterior and undeniable ugliness lay a kind heart and sharp mind, even if she were slow to speak and even slower to trust.

The Slayer and the Maid, they both treated him well. Or ignored him. Depending on their moods. Some nights on watch, they would be silent, communicating in gestures and looks, other nights, the ones Sam liked best, they’d share stories and reminiscences. The Kingslayer once spent an entire watch speaking with a lisp until the Maid was doubled over with laughter. Other nights, they’d bicker, over little things mostly, the best way to tie a sword belt, how to throw a dagger properly, how to best light a wight on fire. Sam listened hardest those nights, so he could learn without having to ask.

Tonight was different; the Kingslayer was in a mood such as Sam had never seen. He was peevish and snide with the Maid. She was silent and sullen in return. Sam followed along behind them.

“My lips are freezing,” the Kingslayer complained.

“Perhaps if you stopped talking they’d warm up,” the Maid retorted.

“Or you could kiss me.”

Brienne stopped so fast that Sam bumped into her solid back. She barely noticed as she turned on Ser Jaime. Her mouth moved to speak as both men stared at her. No sound escaped her lips. She flicked her eyes to Sam, turned to face forward and continued the patrol.

Lannister quickly caught up with her as Sam scurried behind.

“My tongue is cold, too. I’m certain your kiss could fix that,” Ser Jaime went on.

Sam could see the red blush staining the back of her neck and unscarred side of her face. He thought for a moment that he should intervene, protect her. Then he looked at the Valryian steel sword strapped to Lannister’s waist and the matching one on Lady Brienne’s. She could protect herself well enough.

“My hand, it’s also cold. I could warm it inside your tunic, on the bare skin of your waist.”

Brienne of Tarth made a strangled noise in the back of her throat and strode on.

“Or I could warm it on your teats, what little you have, wench. Or perhaps under the sweet curve of your ass.”

Sam watched as the Maid’s gloved hand gripped the hilt of Oathkeeper. He wondered if Ser Jaime planned to die tonight.

“Not to mention my cock. It’s so cold it might just fall off if it’s not warmed soon. Do you know a nice, wet, warm place for my cock, wench? I think you do. You’ve warmed my cock before.”

At that, she stopped again, wheeling to face Lannister. She ground her teeth before speaking, “My name is Brienne.” Then she slowly and deliberately turned her eyes to Sam before locking her gaze with Ser Jaime.

The Kingslayer broke into a grin. “Tarly has a nice Wildling girl to warm his cock. He’s not interested in you.”

Sam spoke then, “Gilly’s not that sort of girl.”

The tall blond warriors turned to him in unison. He decided to keep his mouth shut and turned to study the night as he listened to them bicker in hushed whispers.

“Jaime, you cannot say things like that. Especially not in front of other people.”

“It’s Tarly. He knows better than to wag his tongue.”

“People can’t know,” she insisted, her voice more urgent now.

“Can’t know what? That I’m fucking you? They already call you my whore.”

That was true enough, but few were careless enough to say it within Lannister’s hearing. Men liked their teeth.

Sam heard her inhale sharply and sensed a movement.

Lannister spoke again, his voice soft this time. “We both know the truth, Brienne. You’re not my whore. You’re my lady. You’re my _wife_.”

Sam sensed another movement and this time the not-quite-a-Maid spoke, her voice sharp with tears. “You took a vow as a Kingsguard to take no wife and hold no lands. Whatever we said in front of a heart tree does not change that, Jaime.”

Sam inhaled sharply, deciding whether to break their tense silence. He squared his shoulders and spoke to the darkness in a clear voice, stronger than any words he’d spoken since the Long Night fell. “You know, the Kingsguard was originally formed at the suggestion of Visenya Targaryen. The Targaryens followed the Seven, but the Old Gods existed long before anyone had heard of the Seven. And here in the North, at the Wall, near the end of all things, it seems to me that a vow made in the name of the Old Gods means more than a vow taken to a chair that now sits empty.”

He heard them breathing, heavy and loud. He dared a quick glance at them from the corner of his eye. They stood facing one another, the Kingslayer’s stump at her waist, her hand on his shoulder.

Lannister spoke first, “I have had a lifetime of stolen moments and sneaking in and out of bedchambers. You are my wife, and I’ll pretend otherwise no longer.”

Lady Lannister gave one quick nod before placing a quick kiss on her husband’s lips. He moved to pull her closer, burying his head into the curve of her neck.

Sam turned and spoke to the night once again, “It’s quiet tonight. I don’t suppose you’d mind if I went back to speak with the Lord Commander about sleeping chamber assignments?”

Ser Jaime Lannister chuckled, and Sam heard a whispered “Thank you” from Brienne.

Sam hurried back towards Castle Black thinking of warriors and weddings and one Wildling girl.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the brilliant and wonderful QuizzicalQuinnia for the beta.


End file.
